Wargame Book I: Fangs and Claws
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: Light Fang and Night Claw are tangled in a mess of blood and mangled bodies and no-one quite knows why they do this, or keep on doing this. Or the ones who know don't say, and all everyone can do is try and play their cards to the best of their ability with the knowledge they have and the pawns at their disposal.


**A/N:** The first of the Wargame trilogy. Relevant warnings include ways to bleed and mangle bodies without bleeding, lots of murders and some seemingly very callous characters. And maybe crazy characters too… (It'll make sense as the story progresses.) And an implied sexual relationship.

Written for:  
>the Tale in Fragments Challenge, 35-easy list 6, prompt #03 – alluring (applies only to this chapter)<br>the Building Blocks Challenge, #78 - quotes prompt "_That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse_." N.H. Kleinbaum, Dead Poets Society (applies to the entire fic)  
>the AU Devils of Doom Challenge, #309 - world is a game! AU (applies to the entire series)<p>

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><p><strong>Wargame<strong>

**.**

_Book I : Fangs and Claws_  
><strong>1. The Devil's Page of Pranks<strong>

**.**

The image of his face flickered, and the woman laughed. 'Power problem?' she asked sympathetically.

'Of course.' The other, though voice broken and laced with static, sounded both amused and annoyed. 'That was Sayo's doing, I imagine?'

'But of course.' The woman's grin widened. 'How'd you like the present?'

'I'm sure the blood will come out of the carpet in a week or so.'

Even though the poor connection, she could make out him rolling his eyes. She laughed. 'I think it's better taste than the Raremon in the heat generator.'

'Debatable,' the other deadpanned.

'Is that the flicker of a smile I see?' the woman asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Perhaps.' The simple and untelling reply again.

She threw a pout. 'That's no fun,' she said. 'Got some time? I'm coming through.'

'Sure.' The man shrugged. 'Don't add to the mess too much.'

'Can't promise anything.' She shrugged as well. 'Metal's easier to clean though. Except maybe you're getting slow, if you haven't fixed the generator yet.'

'It might have been a mistake to put Koh on it.' There was a sigh. 'He's too soft for this sort of world.'

'Shame,' the woman remarked. 'I'm sure Sayo would have liked to have more fun with him.'

'I'm sure,' the other replied, in much the same tone as he'd replied to the accusation of a smile. 'Hopefully her next idea of fun won't involve trapping a baby digimon in the power generator's main turbine.'

The woman blinked at that. 'So that's what she did. I'll mention it to her.'

'Personal favour.' And this time there was a hint of a warning in the man's tone.

The woman just smirked. 'Save your personal favours for when I get there, Glare.'

**.**

Glare terminated the connection and waited for the tell-tale cessation of metallic footsteps, wondering which poor citizen would be the diversion this time. He couldn't help but feel a little disagreeable about Julia's methods – and her prodigy.

Still, it was all part of a grander game, and that smaller game the pair of them were locked within. Little boundaries they couldn't cross. Others they could and did. Agendas declared. Other agendas buried deep – he was still trying to figure out why they kept this shaky alliance, and he was sure she was trying to do the same.

Why they kept it now was obvious. There was a connection, a meaning, an _opponent_ – even a rival, they could say. But there was even more than that: something that went beyond that childish desire to come out on top, that made them drop the lines to rock bottom and respect those. To let her, from behind the scenes, to effectively rule his side and he did hers – it was a complicated mix of trust and desire and rebellion as well.

Just like it was more than devilish beauty that walked in second after the guarding footsteps outside had hurried off.

'What was it this time?' he asked.

'Oh,' the woman said coyly. 'You'll find out.'

There was a few droplets of blood on her knife. She licked them off, one by one, until the blade shone. He flicked the lamp on his desk off, dowsing the both of them in a darkness unfitting for the city that was always bright – but still perfectly appropriate.

Julia sheathed the knife. The hiss of metal against leather sounded unnaturally loud. But neither of them were bothered by that. They'd seen worse. Done worse. Ordered worse.

And no doubt they'd only do more as time went on. As their game of life went on. And all the little games that interceded it.

Like the one they played in the darkness of his office while chaos reigned outside.


End file.
